Silence creeps through the trees like a fog, swallowing heartbeats pounding out war drums of anticipation. Hues of orange and brown carpet the forest floor, broken by the green and grey trunks and craggy rock outcroppings. The sun closes its eyes and even the wind holds its breath for this moment.
Horns moan bleeding into snarling howls, the earthquake of a thousand feet taking their first step stuns our ears to a dull ringing. It has begun.
Snarling teeth and mottled flesh flash in a blur of movement as the first wave reaches our placement. Whirling from the secure feel of the rough bark to our backs, we slash and parry. Thorn and thicket, yellowed cracked nails rake furrows across tanned leather armor. Reckless they pour into us, only to pile like cord wood around our ankles, the air itself becomes wet and crimson.
Wave after wave breaks upon the shores of our sword reach, driving us deep to to the edge of a gully, loose earth clattering down its embankment. Sliding down the incline we slip into the gaping mouth of a foreboding cave welcoming a moment of respite from the tromping feet beyond its shadow.
Do we fight on?
We have n'er a choice. There is a princess to save.
Alright, lets be on with it.
With a determined breath we turn and face the waiting horde...
Oh sorry Doctor. No, I don't know why I have a hero complex. I was just thinking about Sunday afternoons, two boys with their sticks, somewhere...
Over the Hill.
While some days I lament the passing of those times in the woods behind my uncle's house fighting fanciful creatures, the battles still rage on. Only now its for your family. Romance your wife. Cherish your husband. Play with your kids. The enemy is lurking...